Smoke and Fire
by Ellen Fitzwilliam Brandybuck
Summary: [On hiatus] Muirin seeks employment at Xavier's School to protect a young mutant in her care. But along with the arrival of other new mutants, Muirin's dark past resurfaces and a fanatical international government organization threatens all mutants. Now former enemies must come together and in that alliance a bright future may come. MultiPairs
1. Here there be dragons

_The following story will be written by myself as well as my friend and partner in occasional crime. The canon characters within this story for the most part resemble the actors within X-Men First Class and the more recent films in looks but their personalities are a grand mixture of movies and comics. We're also taking some liberties of putting characters together who may not normally be in the same timelines within comics or movies. General timeline indication: when Magneto and Xavier are still young and "dumb." The rating of this story is violence, language, and sexuality based, so warning on that. We do not own anything associated with X-men, we only "own" our OC's and this story idea. Please feel free to critique or praise, as you see fit, and even offer up prompts/ideas for pairings or specific cameos of characters. Hope you are entertained and cheers!_

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Aptly named for every lifetime she'd had to live, Tlachtga Keena Sine Muirin Luan Niadh Ó Brádaigh Foley, currently known by her fourth name, knew she was dream walking. The beginning of dream walks always made her feel like she was buried beneath a mountain, her lungs screaming for air, and her body struggling for movement, but then she would feel like she was floating, eerily gliding through nothingness. And in the eerie nothingness that she'd grown used to, Muirin glimpsed a small shaft of light and knew immediately that it was not her own dream that she'd be walking through. In the light, she saw the outline of a little girl and knew instinctively who it was. She wanted to claw her way outside of the dream, not wanting to relive a moment with this girl as it brought too much pain, and yet with the same desperate longing she wanted to stay.

The little girl was thrashing around the room, tearing at the walls with sharp talons on her hands and bare feet, biting at the door with lengthened teeth, howling and screeching like a tortured animal, and crying blood red tears. Muirin watched as the girl's skin morphed into a scale like texture one moment only to resume its human form the next.

Suddenly a voice echoed in the room, "Now, now, dear, that's no way to act. You must be a good girl before we can give you supper."

The girl ceased all movement and sound as she glared up at the ceiling for a few seconds before crouching down. Muirin next watched the girl "climb" up the air until she could sink her talons into the ceiling and bite into the camera that monitored her actions. An electrical shock went through the girl but this only seemed to infuse her with more anger and she slammed her fist through the ceiling into the wires that ran throughout it. She ripped out a large section of the wiring, shredding it with her teeth and talons, screaming and howling as she did so. Blood was beginning to stain the ceiling from her self-inflicted wounds. Next, she leapt at the lighting fixture, punching through the protective covering and ripping the lights to shreds, earning herself more shocks and screaming loudly all the more.

Suddenly a portion of the wall opened and a small boy was pushed in. Emergency lighting, grotesquely red, flickered before fully coming on, casting the girl and boy in a sort of hellish color. The feral girl glared down at him, her teeth bared. The little boy was no older than the girl and yet she seemed to make no association from the way she began to pace around the ceiling, her talons keeping her rooted to it, eyeing him like prey. Her body rippled with power, her muscles much too defined for a girl her age.

"There's a good girl," the menacing voice echoed again, making the girl jump down and crouch in a corner like a frightened animal, "Eat supper like the little dragon that you are."

The little boy's eyes widened and he stared at the girl with fear and horror clearly written on his face. In the moment their eyes met the girl seemed to calm enough to look apologetic and ashamed but in the next moment Muirin watched, with tears burning her own eyes, as the little girl's body transformed entirely and she launched across the room and sank her elongated jaws into the screaming boy's neck, draining him of his life. As the boy's screams and struggles began to wane, the girl's red rimmed black eyes met Muirin's and Muirin felt her gut clench and her heart plummet.

"MUIRIN!" A voice cut through the dream and brought her back to reality.

Muirin jerked awake and stared at her young ward Caroline with unseeing eyes for a few moments, the bile in her throat from the memory/dream still threatening to spill out of her mouth. It had been some time since she'd had a dream of that intensity and the fact that she'd had one put her on immediate alert. It wasn't her dream, and it hadn't been her memory. That'd been from a time she'd been absent the waking world, when the girl already taken. The only person who would have known of that time or had a dream like that would be-

"What?" she interrupted her own train of thought, her voice hoarse and scratchy.

Caroline pushed a cup of water into her hands, "You were screaming so loud I thought the police would come." Caroline sat back on her haunches and Muirin noticed for the first time that the girl had crawled up into Muirin's bed and now sat on the mattress next to her. "Was it a bad dream?"

Muirin stared at her "dependent" in silence. Of course "dependent" wasn't exactly the term she should use for the precocious ten-year-old. Caroline had been placed in Muirin's care, or at least Muirin had assumed care for her, after Muirin had witnessed the massacre of the rest of the girl's family. Had she not transformed and "abducted" the girl from her captors, the girl would most likely have been robbed of any semblance of a normal life and would now be under the knife of ruthless fanatics. Being far from normal, and with powers Muirin still did not fully understand, Caroline for the most part exhibited typical ten-year-old mentality and habits. This had been quite the adjustment for Muirin to make, having lost contact with her own family eons before. However, in the three months they'd had together since their first meeting and rescue, Muirin believed they'd fallen into a routine and were growing closer by the day.

"It was worse than a dream, Caroline." Muirin sat up against her pillows so she could gargle the water a bit to sooth the soreness. She swallowed then continued, "It was a memory, of sorts."

"I have that too." Caroline glanced at the extra pillows beside Muirin's body then glanced back to Muirin, as if awaiting an invitation. Muirin nodded and almost immediately Caroline was tucked into the bed beside her. There was still some space between their bodies but they were both propped up, the covers up to their waists. "I don't scream like you though. At least I don't think I do. Do I?"

Muirin shook her head, "No you don't, but you have cried." She didn't know if she should have told the girl that or not but figured why not, considering the roles had been reversed and Caroline had wakened her from a nightmare. "Are they memories of when your parents were killed?"

"Yeah." Caroline looked down to the covers and began picking at some of the lose threads. "Muirin?"

"Yeah?"

"Why did they kill my parents?" Muirin looked down at her glass of water and wished it was something stronger. "I know you know why but why haven't you told me?" Caroline added when Muirin didn't immediately respond.

Muirin sighed and placed the glass on her bedside stand. "You already know that you are different from most children. You have unique abilities and unique needs." She waited until Caroline nodded her head before she continued. "Some people are afraid of that uniqueness. They assume that something different is something bad." She knew that sentiment intimately herself.

"So they killed my parents because of me?"

Muirin winced. Should she lie and say otherwise when that was in fact true? She looked over to the girl and saw no trace of tears or a threatening of them. She saw open curiosity and determination, fear as well, but mostly determination. She could understand that sense; the desire to understand something horrid even if she'd been the reason it'd happened.

"I can't say one hundred percent that they killed your parents because of you. I think that if your father hadn't tried to fight back or your mother tried to fight them off once they'd wounded your father, then maybe they might've tried to merely kidnap all of you. Now, that being said, do I think they would've killed all of you once they'd gotten what it was they'd wanted out of you? Yes, I do think that." She continued to watch the girl's face as she spoke, to see how the girl would react to her words. So far, the face remained the same, breathing rate as well.

"Do you think they wanted to know if my parents were like me?"

"Yes, I do. I don't think they knew everything about you, what exactly you were capable of, but they did know you were different enough to think you a threat. They naturally assumed that your parents would be similar if not the same as you."

Caroline was quiet a moment before she spoke again, "Do you think it was the blood?"

"What do you mean?"

"My parents only started buying blood off the black market the last few months before the," Caroline halted in her speech pattern as if the words were difficult to form but after a deep breath continued, "before the attack. I couldn't eat anything anymore and they couldn't afford to take me into the hospital. It was my father's idea."

Muirin nodded. She too continued to buy blood replacement for Caroline. She exhibited no aversion to sunlight, had developed no elongated incisors, and in general had no traits similar to vampires other than her dependence upon blood for sustenance. Muirin knew perfectly well that vampires were not the only things that went "bump" in the night and for her to accept that there was something else, namely something like Caroline, out there was easy enough. In her time, she'd come across far more creatures and mutants than what was currently known and talked about.

Most likely Caroline was the product of environmental exposure to various genetic elements through many generations; perhaps even experimentation as Muirin's own digging into Caroline's family's past had shown members from both sides being held prisoner during World War I and World War II, as well as Vietnam. There was any number of things that could lead to the creation of Caroline's abilities. Thus far they'd not been aggressive or harmful to others; mostly defensive. Muirin was curious how they'd develop in the future though, and only hoped she could be of some use to the girl when she needed to be.

It was only because of Caroline's needs that Muirin had contacted her old friend Remy LeBeau. She'd followed his exploits, as his trademark moves were easy to spot for her, and had tracked him to Xavier's School for Gifted Youngsters—earning a laugh in regards to the name considering it had been founded before mutants had been readily known by the rest of humanity. It would be the perfect set-up, if they could pull it off: Muirin as a professor with Caroline as a student. She could continue to monitor and care for Caroline at the same time that Caroline could be surrounded by other mutants all with the same hope: gaining balance in their lives.

Muirin didn't particularly like associating with mutants on a regular basis, mostly because it also put her under the microscope of society and she really didn't want to have to deal with the fallout if her true nature was discovered as a byproduct of that. However, again because of Caroline, she had given Remy her contact information and resume to pass on to her possible future employer and had received the invitation for an interview the day before. She was to visit the school for the interview the following day.

"What was your dream about?" Caroline's question brought Muirin's thoughts back to the present.

She weighed the pros and cons of lying to the girl or diverting her away but then she thought of how much the girl had been forced to share with Muirin out of necessity as well as her continued dependence upon her. Like it or not, they were going to be together for some time to come. Caroline needed to know more about Muirin than her own abilities and "otherness" if she was going to fully trust Muirin judgment in regards to her rearing techniques.

With that in mind Muirin spoke, "I dreamt of one of my descendants."

"One of your what's?"

"Descendants, someone who is related to me but distantly because of the passage of time. Caroline, I'm much older than I look."

Caroline raised her eyebrows, "Like how old?"

"Like I know exactly whether or not Saint Patrick drove the snakes out of Ireland because I was there."

"Saint Patrick?" Caroline tipped her head to the side in thought. "Saint Patrick's day Saint Patrick? He was real?"

Muirin chuckled, "Yeah he was real. He was rather attractive too, for a priest."

"How long ago was that?"

"You do know that it's rude to ask a woman her age and/or weight?"

"How long?" Caroline insisted, rolling her eyes at Muirin's attempt to dissuade her.

"About sixteen hundred years."

Caroline's mouth dropped open, "You've been alive for sixteen hundred years? Don't you get bored?"

"Well, yes, if I'd been awake for all sixteen hundred years I suppose I'd have gotten bored." Muirin was laughing in spite of the seriousness of the conversation. "But my kind can sleep for long periods of time. In fact, when I'm in my normal form I don't need to sleep like humans do; I can stay awake constantly. But that leads up to my wanting to sleep for months, if not years, at a time to make up for that. When I'm in human form, because it takes constant concentration, I need sleep just as much if not more than regular humans."

"You've slept for years before?" Caroline asked and waited until Muirin nodded before she voiced her next question. "What's the longest that you've slept?"

Muirin had to think for a while before she could answer, "I think the longest was about eighty years."

"Eighty years?" Caroline shrieked and Muirin laughed at the look of absolute shock on the little girl's face. "How can you, I mean, where can you sleep for eighty years without anyone bothering you?"

"Oh Caroline, there are still many places humans have not explored on this great world and I can assure you that right now there are least a dozen more of my kind asleep somewhere."

Caroline shook her head, her brain most likely struggling to keep up with the numbers, let alone reconcile them to the image of Muirin herself. Muirin was left to contemplate her dream. Of course the holder of the dream could be anywhere within a three-hundred-mile radius and they may not have sensed her presence within the dream as well, but then again they may have. If they did, Muirin frowned to herself at the thought, then it was all the more imperative that she get the job at Xavier's school. She didn't want to expose Caroline to any more violence and the bearer of that particular dream was a guarantee for such.

"So are you a dragon?" Caroline's voice was quiet, as if she were afraid to offend Muirin by using such a term.

Muirin smiled, "We've been called monsters and dragons, but also lindworms, and wyverns, and drakes, and demons. Actually society's understanding of dragons is partially based in fact from various encounters regular humans have had with us over the years. This has fed into the myths and fairy tales that you've grown up with. But just as there are many different races of humans on earth, there are just as many different races of dragons if you will. Some of us have four legs, some two; some fly and some don't; some are mammoth size and some are no bigger than a cat." Caroline's eyes were huge and again Muirin noticed the glimmer in them. The girl was no longer thinking of her own pain as she was too engrossed in something else. Perhaps it had been a good choice to reveal so much to her. "Also just as you have good people and bad people, you have good dragons and you have bad dragons."

"So you're a good dragon, and you can fly, and you have four legs." Caroline spoke with confidence, relying upon her memory of Muirin's rescue near a year before. "You're also pretty, as a dragon I mean. I thought you were a weird-looking, flying, red and black horse, with a lizard tail and eagle claws, when I first saw you coming out of the sky toward me that night."

Muirin smiled, though the smile was sad, "Well I'm glad I didn't frighten you when I was in my normal form. However, I do need to say that I would never claim to be wholly good. There have been things that I've done, that I felt I had to do in my lifetime, that I would not want to reveal to you or anyone else for that matter." Caroline's eyes were much more discerning than a ten-year-old's should be and Muirin attributed that to the reason she was revealing so much; that and also the fact that she'd not had a close companion to talk to in many years. "I'll be honest with you Caroline, in that taking care of you, I know I can't fix the mistakes I've made in the past, but I do hope that I've learned from them and can teach you how to avoid them."

"Redemption right?" Caroline rubbed at her eyes, sleepiness creeping in despite her interest in the conversation. "Is that the right word?"

Muirin nodded, "Yes that's the right word."

Caroline nodded before shifting down more against the pillows. She'd apparently made the decision to share Muirin's bed without asking. Muirin didn't particularly mind, they only had the two double beds in the hotel room so it wasn't as if she'd been sleeping with any privacy anyway. She leaned over and flipped the bedside lamp off, Caroline must've turned it on earlier, before she too shifted downward on the bed. She was just about to roll over and attempt sleep when Caroline's sleepy voice sounded again.

"Can I sleep with you tomorrow night too?"

"Yes, you can."

"Thank you." The girl's voice drifted off on her last word and it carried on into her sleep.

Muirin watched Caroline's back as she slept for a few moments more, not wanting to think of her dream, not wanting to think of all the descendants she'd not been able to protect from hunters and fanatics. Of course, as sleep crept over her as well she found it harder to not let her mind wander.

The dream had been from the 1970's, during one of Muirin's hibernation periods. The girl had been stolen from her family and "raised" by a group of men and women who'd considered themselves scientists but were in every fashion torturers. When Muirin had finally awakened in the late 1990's it had been the girl's brother who'd told her everything; she typically kept her distance from her descendants, preferring to let them live without her influence over their lives, but the family had contacted her in desperation. They'd not known if the girl was dead or alive and had needed her to find out.

Using the blood ties—as matriarch, hers were much stronger than any of the others—Muirin could always locate a descendent and she'd used that to find the girl, now a broken woman. It was from that woman that she'd received the dream and it was from that woman that Muirin wished to keep Caroline. While she was not wholly evil, there was a darkness inside her, nurtured by the men who'd stolen her and who she'd later killed, a darkness that had a tendency to swallow up all others around her. If she could spare Caroline from that darkness she would.

Ironic that she felt that way and yet she had every intention of taking Caroline into a mansion filled with mutants, and all with their own horror stories.


	2. Of Meetings,Greetings,and Blownout Tires

_Thank you in advance for your review/critiques. As you see fit, offer up prompts/ideas for pairings or specific cameos of characters. Hope you are entertained and cheers!_

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It was 10 in the morning and the sunshine was spilling in through the high windows that made up the walls of the Westchester County Airport, creating pane-shaped rectangles on the floor. The large expanse of light made Jem want to sprawl and stretch like a cat but the airport was already flooded with people and if she attempted such a thing she'd likely get trampled. And pulverized into human applesauce by the shoes of hundreds of grouchy people was not how she wanted to leave the world.

Standing ramrod straight and utterly still amongst the rolling sea of humanity was one Dr. Hank McCoy. At least she thought it was him. The last time she'd seen him he'd been blue and fuzzy and not particularly amused by her questions concerning his use or lack thereof, of flea repellent. The bespectacled, pale, normal looking man here had very little in common with the furry creature she'd talked to over a month before in her living room. Much to his chagrin, she'd spent the entire conversation perched cross-legged on the arm of her sofa while he'd tried to convince her that Xavier's School for Gifted Youngsters was the perfect place for her to go discover more about herself. While the idea of meeting others as odd as herself sounded fascinating, she hadn't been all that enthralled with the rules that came as a packaged deal. Yet, here she was.

Jem watched him from her vantage point a floor above, hidden amongst the other commuters. She didn't particularly wish to attend mutant academy but when her father had proclaimed she choose between that and moving out on her own and supporting herself, well, the choice had become simple. Heaving a long suffering sigh, Jem lifted a hand to flag down her escort who immediately smiled at her, shoulders loosening as if he'd been worried something could have happened on her flight. She couldn't help but roll her eyes at the thought. But then again she had been on board, so she couldn't fault him. Craziness did tend to pop up around her. Completely unprovoked in her opinion, though her father had always thought otherwise.

"Did you think I'd cause a scene?" she questioned once she was close enough, laughing outright when Hank instantly sputtered something that sounded like denial. "I behaved. Wore my sunglasses and everything."

"Why don't I completely believe that?"

A grin stretched wide over Jem's face and she hefted her duffle bag higher onto her shoulder. "Because you've obsessively read over my file? I'm sure you all did your research before chatting to me." Nevermind that part of the research they'd supposedly done on her involved a guy who could mentally locate her magical mutant genes across vast distances. She wasn't entirely sure she believed that one, but considering that she could turn into a human glow stick she probably didn't have a lot of room to be skeptical about other's talents.

Hank tried to be the gentleman and take Jem's luggage from her but she twisted out of his reach, shaking her head. "Thanks but I've got it." He hesitated, as if he wanted to continue to insist, but then he shrugged it off and turned to walk out the door. She was glad he was tall because she certainly wasn't and with the bag making her bulkier than she was accustomed to being, Jem lagged slightly behind, though she could still see Hank's head bobbing above the crowd like a little flag at a golfing green.

Stepping out of the building through the endlessly revolving doors, the pair made their way across the parking lot, walking well past the other vehicles to a mostly deserted corner where a single vehicle sat. Shining a vibrant red in the sunlight was a 1962 Ford Galaxie.

"Hank," Jem breathed, reverently running a hand over the vehicle, "I might have to rethink my opinion on you. She's beautiful."

Flushing, Hank fidgeted awkwardly with the keys in his hand as he unlocked the driver's side door. "It's not mine. One of the students had a little accident with my car and now it won't start. This… eyesore belongs to my coworker Remy."

"A man of good tastes," she murmured, bouncing into the passenger seat and settling her bag between her legs on the floor.

The engine purred when Hank twisted the key and Jem's eyes lit up with an anticipation for speed that was immediately crushed by Hank's grandma crawl out of the parking lot. "You can't be serious," she deadpanned, gesturing at the open, uncrowded road in front of them. "A lady like this needs to move!"

"Not my car," Hank reminded her, keeping his hands fixed at their appropriate 10 and 2 spots on the wheel. "If I so much as scratch this car Remy will, well, he won't murder me. That's too boring for him. He'll creatively torture me until I wish he had though. So we're gonna drive like this until this car is safely parked and I can no longer be blamed for it's saf-"

 _ **BANG!**_

The front left tire collapsed on itself, sending the car into a spin across the asphalt. Air was forced out of Jem's lungs as she was thrown forward against the seatbelt, her head connecting with the dash hard enough to snap her sunglasses, the sharp edge of which split the skin over her right eye. When movement ceased, Jem found herself being held in place by a very strong, very fluffy blue arm. It was probably the only reason she hadn't been more badly slammed about the vehicle and for the millionth time in her life she lamented having a useful freak talent. Instead she was stuck with eyes that glowed faintly and had vertically slitted pupils among other things. Great for seeing at night, completely useless in a car wreck.

"Thank you," her voice rasped out from recently abused lungs. "But um… I think there might be a scratch on the car now."

The unmistakable sound of growling reverberated in the car then and Jem looked over in surprise at Hank. Was he angry at her sarcasm? He hadn't seemed to be the type to lose his temper so easily, and over such a flippant comment. But she saw that he wasn't directing the growl-like sound at her but instead had his focus entirely on something, or someone, outside their windshield. As his arm had yet to remove itself from shielding her, Jem had to shift awkwardly in her seat to peer over the blue fur. She'd only just managed to glimpse what looked to be another car and a few people in official looking suits milling about it when Hank ceased his growling and pulled his arm away.

"Whatever happens, Miss Ritter, do NOT leave my side."

The quality of his voice had deepened along with his physical change and though Jem naturally rebelled against orders of any kind, the way in which Hank now spoke had her swallowing any sort of comeback and instead she nodded. Satisfied with her response, Hank unbuckled his seatbelt and opened his door to step out. Jem hesitated a moment before she figured if he wanted her to stay by his side then he must've meant he wanted her to leave the car when he did as well. The scowl upon his face when she peered at him over the roof of the car seconds later had her rethinking her decision. However, instead of cowering back inside the car, she shrugged in the face of his scowl and turned her gaze towards the car and people in front of them.

They were quite official looking, government worker type with dark suits and dark glasses, and Jem got the sinking suspicion that what had happened to Remy's tire had not been an accidental blowout. Jem refrained from patting the car in sympathy. No beauty like this deserved to be treated so poorly. Whatever beef these guys had with Hank, Jem hoped they didn't take it out on the car. Or her.

"Doctor McCoy is it?" Suit #1 spoke-they really did look too much alike and so Jem solved that problem by numbering them according to who was closest to her. "It must be, as the only furry blue mutant I know of is none other than Henry Philip McCoy, called Hank by friends and family."

Suit #1 signalled to Suit #3 then and Jem turned to see Suit #3 pull out a file- _had he been hiding it in his ass?_ -and begin reading. "Born in Dundee, Illinois, in the United States, to Norton and Edna McCoy. His father, Norton McCoy, was employed at a local nuclear power plant before Henry's birth and was once exposed to intense nuclear radiation. This is the proposed explanation for McCoy's mutation. McCoy is known for his vast intellect, unusually long arms and legs, and also has unusually large hands and feet for a human." Suit #3 flipped the chart closed but kept on speaking, having memorized the information ( _boy did he need a hobby_ ), "His body's proportions are comparable to those of a gorilla and was often called 'Magilla Gorilla' in school."

Jem coughed over the almost laugh. When the three Suits looked at her, and Hank along with them, she shook her head and dropped her gaze. It wasn't a very creative nickname but the alliteration was catchy. Jem glanced up and over at Hank, curious as to how he was taking all this. His expression, that of a scowl, hadn't changed but she noticed that at the ends of his fingers there looked to be claws starting to poke through his skin. In spite of the situation, whatever the situation was, Jem couldn't help but wonder if that hurt, having his claws come out like that, or if it was more like a cat when the cat sheathed and unsheathed its claws. She made a mental note to ask him about it later. If there was a later.

"Who are you and what do you want?" Hank tipped his head downwards ever so slightly but it was enough that whatever glare he was now throwing the Suits it was a menacing one for certain. Jem found it interesting that he hadn't bothered to ask how the Suits knew so much information about him. Perhaps that came with the territory of working at a school known to harbor freaks such as she.

Suit #2 spoke up, "We are not authorized to tell you who we are, only that you carry a message to your employer."

"And what message is that?"

Suit #1 reached inside his suit coat and Jem heard Hank's growling pick up again in direct response. Suit #1 merely smiled before he slowly pulled out what looked to be some sort of disk. Jem had little experience with computers but she knew enough about them to recognize a memory disk when she saw one. Instead of walking over to hand it to Hank, Suit #1 further incurred Hank's ire by stepping forward and holding the disk out for Jem to take. In order to retrieve it, she would have to step out from behind the car door and though a car door wouldn't offer her much protection if a firefight started, if these guys even needed to use guns, it was psychologically reassuring to know that at any second she could dive back into the car and help Hank put it into gear in order to limp away from these dour looking dweebs.

"I promise it won't bite." Suit #1 smiled again before glancing over to Hank. "Him, however, I'm not so certain."

"What is that?" Hank spoke up before Jem could manage to move in any direction, either back into the car as she was certain Hank wanted her to do or around the door to retrieve the disk.

Suit #2 laughed humorlessly, "Surely you can recognize a memory disk when you see one."

"That's not what I meant," Hank growled at Suit #2, his eyes swerving between Suit #2 then back to Suit #1, "I mean what is on the disk?"

"Oh so curious," Suit #3 smiled and Jem shivered; she really didn't like his smile. "Why don't you take it and find out for yourself?"'

Suit #1 solved the car door issue for Jem by moving closer and tossing it at her. Her reflexes had her catching the disk before she remembered it could've been some sort of diversion tactic, or that the disk could be a type of explosive device. Hank's responding glare when she looked over to him confirmed her suspicions that he too had thought the same thing. Jem merely smiled at him as innocently as she could manage, holding the disk out at arm's length as if the thing would bite her.

"Have a good day Doctor McCoy." Suit #2 spoke, bringing their attention back to the group of men.

Suit #'s 2 and 3 got into the dark, standard government-esque vehicle, while Suit #1 continued to stare at them a bit longer. He cracked a smile before he too moved to enter his vehicle, "A shame about the tire. Better be more careful on your drive home. Accidents can happen anywhere these days it seems."

With that being said the Suits and their car drove off, leaving a confused Jem and an irate Hank in their wake.

"Friends of yours?" Jem asked when the silence stretched and no explanation was forthcoming.

A rumbling growl that vaguely sounded like 'no' was the only response she received, so she ignored him in favour of examining the not-a-bomb memory disk that she'd caught on reflex. It was beyond mundane with no logos or any other identifying symbols to mark it out as special. Shrugging, Jem slipped the device into the back pocket of her pants and walked around the passenger door to examine what damage the car had taken. She wasn't terribly vehicle savvy but she could change a tire if that was all that was needed. Assuming a spare was readily available.

Squatting beside the tire, Jem was relieved to see that no damage had been caused to the actual frame of the vehicle. The hub cap looked slightly abused but it'd still function. "Well," she dusted off her hands on her thighs, "it looks repairable. Sort of. That Remy fellow might still be irked but so long as he has a spare and a jack we can hide most of the evidence."

Still bristling with angry energy, Hank wordlessly moved to the trunk of the car. As it turned out there was a spare tire, set smack dab in the middle of the otherwise empty space. Which, if he thought about it, he found rather odd. Remy seemed the sort to be a packrat with absconded knickknacks stuffed into any available crevice. With minimal exertion, Hank pulled the tire free and snapped the trunk closed. "Are you sure you know what you're doing?" he asked, uncertain, as he wound back to the front.

"Sure, my dad taught me. Life skill and all that," Jem grinned, staring pointedly at the tire, "Where's the jack?"

Hank shrugged, setting the tire on the ground. "There wasn't one."

"Merde,*" she muttered at the ground, "Not sure about you but I can't mind bend the car into the air to fix it."

"Not my talent either, no." Hand rubbed his hands together as he eyed the car speculatively.

A moment later and a solution had been found. Of a sort. Legs spread wide for stability, Hank was half-crouched beside the vehicle with his fingers curled under the edge of the car, supporting it's weight. Jem made quick work below him with removing the deflated tire but she was having a harder time getting the new one into place. "Hold it still," she grumped, dipping lower as Hank's grip slid somewhat and the lug nut she'd been working on moved away from her.

"Would you care to trade places?"

"Point taken," Jem grunted, tightening the final lug nut into place and reclining back with a sigh. "You can set her down now. Gently."

With a groan, Hank lowered the vehicle's front end back to the earth. Such physical exertion following a car accident, even one that didn't end with a collision, probably wasn't the most medically sound choice he could have made. Waiting around on the side of the road for help to materialize, especially when he was supposed to be safely escorting a new student, was unacceptable. Some small discomfort on his part was worth getting the girl back safely.

Jem pushed herself from the ground, the movement making her hiss as newly formed bruises complained. Adrenaline had kept her from noticing them much directly following the spin out but she could map them across her sternum now without needing to look. Tomorrow, if not that night, she'd no doubt have a beautiful L-shaped bruise to commemorate the eventful trip. She was thankful, though, that the cut over her eye was not deep and so hadn't bled overly much. "I don't know about you but all this excitement is making me hungry? There's food at this mansion of yours right?"

"It isn't my mansion but yes, there will be food there that you can eat. We should get going before anything else happens."

"Agreed." Jem slid gingerly back into her seat, shifting awkwardly a moment before she remembered just what the lump in her back pocket was and stilled. If she were lucky she might get to look at it before Hank remembered she had it. Two minutes down the road however, her re-humanized driver pulled the car to the side of the road and held out his hand. Now that the claws weren't forming at the ends of his fingers, and also now that it wasn't blue and covered in fur, Jem noticed that he really had nice hands; long fingers.

"Before I forget," he flexed said fingers in a 'gimme' sort of gesture, "I'll need that disk if you don't mind."

"Foutre.*"

* * *

 _*Shit and Fuck in French_


	3. Between a Rock and a Hard Place

_Remy/Gambit is Cajun ergo there will be a lot of Franglais spoken by him. I've tried to keep it to words that are easily recognizable in English but I apologize in advance if Google translate is required. Again, please leave critiques or review with ideas of your own. Cheers!_

* * *

Another slimy creature wiggled its way across her skin, making not only her skin pimple with goose bumps but her stomach churn in disgust. Even after all her years of life, she still hated creepy crawlies. She well understood what it was like to be misunderstood based off of traditional stereotypes, but that didn't stop her from immediately wishing away the slime the undesirables were leaving on her skin. Muirin felt the grim and dirt of the rock soak through her clothing, chilling her to the bone. From where her shirt had wiggled up her torso in her struggles, she also felt her skin chafe against the cold stone. She was quite literally between a rock and a hard place. Of course, she had no one to blame but herself, but she wasn't about to verbally admit that. Not when HE was standing a few feet away, grinning like an idiot.

"When I get out of this, I am going to seriously kick the-"

"Now that'sa no way for a lady to talk." Remy's laughter filled the small area around her wiggling body, echoing off the damp walls of the little gorge she'd come across in her exploration and returning to mock her in her anger and frustration. "Especially with young ears so close by to hear, eh?" Thankfully, Caroline had stayed at the car instead of following Remy back into the gorge where he was supposed to be helping her, not taunting her.

Muirin clenched her teeth and once more tried to wriggle her body out of the tight spot. She only succeeded in wedging herself even more into the crevice until it was painful to breathe too deeply. While she would've been able to transform and free herself on her own, it wasn't close enough in the cycle to assume her full form, and even then she didn't have the time to wait through the de-transformation before her meeting, thus she'd opted to maintain her human figure. Unlike mutants who could shape-shift, she had to allow herself hours if not days to resume human form, depending upon where in the cycle she was at. The cycle waxed and waned on a lunar schedule and her form and strength, and ability to resume human form, also varied according to where she was in the cycle.

"Mon chere Sine-"

She cut him off, "It's Muirin."

"Pardonnez-moi?" He came around the boulder into her line of sight.

Muirin sighed and tapped her fingernails on one of the rocks, "I go by Muirin now." When he continued to stare at her in silence she rolled her eyes. "I need to distance myself from what happened when I was Sine. So I'm Muirin Foley."

"And what'sa to happen should I have told mon amis back at le mansion that mon ol' soeur Sine was a comin' in for a petit visit?"

"Remy!"

Remy Etienne LeBeau let out silken laughter in the face of her ire, "Oh mon amie Sine, oi pardon, Muirin. Mon dieu, that's goin' to get confusin' en vite." He shook his head but kept up his smiling. "I said no such thing. Yes, chere, how could I tell anyone my ol' amie Sine was comin' when I myself haven't heard from my ol' amie Sine Muirin since I was last is in beau Normandy."

Muirin felt the cut of Remy's comment, even though he'd said it in his typical smooth fashion. He well knew that she'd contacted him out of desperation, loathing to do it since they'd promised each other only to do so in case of emergency—and neither one of them typically acknowledged a time when they were in an emergency. While her situation wasn't exactly an emergency it was direr than if she only needed the money and protection for herself—though in reality she never truly needed protection but money was always welcome. With a sudden "dependent" thrust into her care, however, she'd had no other choice but to look up her old friend when she couldn't readily find a job that also offered the unique protection she required for her "dependent."

As the chill of the wet boulders continued to seep into her joints, Muirin reflected upon how exactly she'd come to be stuck. Though he'd warned her not to get too curious in her explorations, what else did Remy expect her to do in an area known for its sink holes and caves alongside its rivers? Caroline had wanted an adventure and, after a night in which they'd both suffered from night terrors, Muirin had felt a little adventure would go a long way for them.

He'd been busy earlier with his Sex Ed class—and what imbecile had entrusted a classroom of teenagers to Remy LeBeau with that subject anyway—so Muirin had done what she always did when she had nothing better to do: she'd explored. Muirin had used her senses to find this sunken gorge, the walls covered with moss and lichen, making a natural pallet of colors for a masterful painting. Since the entrance had not required special gear and the gorge itself had been overly deep, and with Caroline's prodding, she'd decided they could further explore it. It was all very natural for her to explore the near cave-like place, it was instinctive for her after all, as caves were in her blood so to speak, so in a way it was his fault she was now stuck.

It had been to her delight that Caroline had later found a small waterfall bursting out through a crevice in the gorge walls. The mist from the cascade had immediately drenched her once pristine white dress shirt and soaked her black dress pants, plastering her clothing to her body. Caroline hadn't been any better either, her day-dress soaking clear through and the once peach-colored dress now having an odd brownish hue. She had figured they could dry later and so had taken off her shoes, rolled up her pants, folded up and set aside her shirt to reveal her tan undershirt, and went further in to explore. As Caroline had found and explored the cascade before Muirin could warn her, it was of no use to have the child discard her already soiled garment and wander about the place in her slip. It was while they'd been rock hopping at the base of the waterfall that Muirin had slipped and lodged her body between two large boulders. Now the undershirt was dirty and torn and her pants were in similar condition.

The sound of Remy's tongue clicking against his teeth brought Muirin back from her musings, "Oh Remy would you get out of your pity party and help me already? I'm going to be late!"

"La chance was on your side, mon chere, that I remember your nature so well. There was a list I made, of the places you would most likely explore, and dis was one of the top entries." He shook his head. "I warned you not to explore today, I told you explicitement to ignore that tendance of yours. If you had listened to me then you wouldn' be here now would you," his chastising voice set her teeth on edge and further deepened the desire she held to lodge her foot up his— "How exactly did you get in there?" his voice cut through her delightful thoughts of torture, bringing her back to her precarious position.

Muirin sighed, "What does it matter how I got down here anyway, just find a way to get me out of here before I'm late to the interview! Remember you told me to be on my best behavior since they're all old fashioned and to try to make a good impression…well good impressions are out the window unless you help me out here."

* * *

Remy shook his head as he finished his rock hoping to stand just in front of Muirin. He had forgotten just how klutzy Muirin could be when she put her mind to it. She did everything with gusto and passion, and that included making mistakes. Very rarely had he known her to half-ass anything. Of course, the last time he'd spent significant time in her presence had been some years ago but it seemed not much had changed in that time.

"Oh would you stop gawking and do something Remy." Muirin growled through her teeth. "You know I need this job. You can make fun of me and further tease me AFTER you get me out of this mess. But for Caroline's sake, get me out of here."

Remy gave her a half smile and nodded. He carefully picked his way around the boulders, trying to see if there was a wedge point he could work with. As he studied the rocks, and with it Muirin's position between them, he allowed his mind to drift back to his first encounters with her. When they'd first met, years and years ago, he had not known it was her at the time, as she'd been in her natural form and that was most definitely not what he was currently looking at. He'd first met her as a child when he and Etienne had escaped the Pig and his men. She'd been unable to save Etienne—his cousin had drowned before her arrival—but she'd carried them both to where the Thieves Guild would find him more easily. He'd tried to tell the Guild that a dragon had saved him, but they'd written off his declarations as those of a delirious child just saved from drowning.

Years later, after he'd been cast out of the Guild and exiled from New Orleans, they'd met again at a café in an art district in France—of course he'd known her as Sine then. There had been something about her aura, the way she'd carried herself, that had struck him as familiar after their brief meeting—she'd mistakenly taken his coffee order and he hers. He'd followed her home, curious as to why he felt so connected to her, and had ended up nearly killed by her when she'd caught him. Over the following weeks she'd tried to scare him off and distance herself but eventually he'd discovered the truth and instead of threatening to expose her, he'd offered his hand in friendship.

It'd taken him some time to get over his initial shock when he had put two-and-two together as to what she was naturally versus what most people saw every day. It'd also taken him time to not fear for his life around her, while she was in her natural form, even though she'd never once tried to harm him and in reality she'd only ever aided him whilst in that form. But seeing in person a black and red creature as tall and wide as a bull moose, with a long horse-like face, scale-like spikes jutting upward in a line down its neck, back and also its serpentine tail, and with feet like an eagle's, well it had taken some getting used to. But once she'd resumed her human state again, the one time she'd changed for him just so he could see her fully, and had explained a few things about herself to him, he'd gotten over himself and had adjusted his stereotypes against creatures such as she.

Finding a sort of kindred spirit in one another as a result, which had surprised Remy at how easy it had been to get over his typical mistrust and actually enjoy her presence, they'd ended up working together on various "jobs," and had eventually become roommates in a flat as well. He couldn't quite remember if there'd ever been sexual tension between them, maybe he'd never allowed himself to think of her in that way considering what she'd done for him as a child as well as what she was naturally, but it had also never been brought up or explored if there ever had been any.

Soon enough after that, though, they'd both felt the need to move on and so they'd said their farewells. She'd warned/assured him that she'd always be able to find him so if he ever had need of her help she'd be there. There'd been the assumption that he would offer similar help should she be in need. But in the years since then he'd never contacted her, nor she him. However apparently, she'd decided now was a good time to call in that assumption.

"Well?" she spoke over her shoulder. "What's to be done?"

Remy looked up at her face and had to bite his lips to keep from smiling when he again saw all the grime smeared there. Usually Muirin was quite attractive with large, almond shaped blue/green eyes that resembled the sea in how they could be calm then stormy in seconds. She had long auburn hair with black streaks, one of the oddest natural combinations of hair colors that Remy had ever seen, offset by ivory skin. Her skin, in areas, was marred by scars and she had plenty of black, blue, and green ink runes tattooed on her body—in areas not readily seen, from centuries ago. There were also, at least one or two undesired brandings on her body that she'd endured for the sake of her descendants. She'd never gone into detail on the history of those brandings but he'd recognized them nonetheless.

"I'm going to have to use my powers to push at least one of these boulders. How close are you in your cycle?" He knew that she knew what he meant but with every other female he spoke to that particular word meant something else entirely and because of that his lips quirked up in a smirk.

She rolled her eyes in response, "IF I cycled like human females I'd probably be PMSing right now but since you're referring to my other cycle then I can tell you I'm not close enough to assume my full form but close enough to assume one that would take over four hours to return to human form from."

"Well, then I guess that means I shall have to be your knight in shinin' armor."

Muirin snorted in response but kept her mouth shut, allowing Remy the silence during which he could get creative with where it was he would use his kinetic force. He wasn't worried about hurting her, he knew well enough based off of their shared history that while she could be knocked about he'd yet to see her fail to get back up again. It took some fancy footwork on his part but soon enough he had the smaller of the two boulders blasted away, which left Muirin sputtering on the floor of the gorge glaring at up at him, most likely accusing him of doing things the hard way.

They made their way back to his motorcycle and her car. Caroline sat on the trunk of Muirin's rental, her feet bouncing off the warm metal of the car's fender. Taking in Muirin's disheveled appearance, Caroline shook her head and smiled. Remy also looked at the girl's dirty dress and after indicating it for her to look at, he smiled back at her. He turned and opened one of the saddle bags and, rummaging around in it, he found what he was looking for. He tossed the shirt and pants in Muirin's direction without warning but, unsurprisingly, she caught both without a problem. Her reflexes were good despite her gracefulness being bad.

"I've a belt in case you need one, but the shirt is clean and presentable. And they're both a better option than what you've on now, unless you've more drab vetements in that contraption of yours." Remy returned his attention to the little girl. It was odd seeing Muirin in charge of this young waif. He'd never pinned Muirin as the motherly type, though she did have protective instincts. That she'd contacted Remy in an effort to protect this slip of a girl, Remy mentally sighed. It would prove most interesting if it came to pass that they could reside at the mansion after all.

Muirin kicked off her shoes and began to undress, not caring that Remy was standing nearby, "It's a hybrid Remy, not a contraption. And no I didn't pack a change of clothes."

Remy smirked as he watched his friend wiggle out of her clothing, not at all perturbed by her makeshift striptease. Caroline, however, had blushed and jumped off the car, heading in the direction of a nearby tree whose leaves had suddenly grown most fascinating. He'd not forgotten how open Muirin was with nudity and bodily functions, traits that sometimes made his own lack of prudery seem tame in comparison. At her age and after the things she'd seen, her slight bohemian nature didn't surprise Remy in the slightest.

While he listened to the sounds of Muirin grunting, her wet clothes difficult to discard, he thought more of the girl now picking and poking at the oak tree nearby. Caroline had lived in a town Muirin had taken up residence in, for a job she'd said, and in that town there'd been quite a few fanatical mutant haters. As Muirin had explained, the girl's family had begun taking her to a clinic in a nearby town to see if there was anything that could be done to stop the developing mutation. The word had gotten out and the fanatics had assumed the worst. Muirin said that the attack had been too meticulous to be the work of mere mutant haters though. The bodies of the parents had been bagged up and the attackers had been in the process of restraining Caroline when Muirin had transformed and rescued the girl before her attackers could take her away.

The results of this had not been pretty. Muirin had had to keep the girl locked up to keep her nearby while Muirin went through the process of resuming her human form. Even after Muirin had resumed human form and had explained things to her, Caroline had, for a time, resented Muirin and had proven difficult to handle. Though Remy still didn't understand how, the girl apparently had the ability to dissolve her body into what Muirin described as a mist. She'd never shifted into an animal or another person, but had instead had only been able to disintegrate into that mist. Whenever Caroline hadn't wanted to listen to Muirin or was angry with Muirin she would retreat into this form and remain that way for hours until finally her body was too tired to maintain the form and she reformed into her regular state again.

Muirin finished changing and thrust her arms out to the side in a showman's pose. "Do you think this will suffice for now?" Remy choked back a laugh and nodded. Caroline turned around and frowned. She apparently wasn't impressed with her guardian's outfit. His shirt fit her well enough as they had similar shoulder widths, but his pants fit oddly. With her feminine curves it fit in areas it shouldn't while it hung loose in areas it should. "What time is it?"

Remy glanced at his watch then up at the sky, "You still have an hour and a half before your interview. We're fifteen minutes from le mansion. You're goin' to have to do somethin' with your hair." He reached out and with both hands managed to fluff up her mass of hair into an even more adorable mess.

"What?" Muirin shook her head away from his hands, caked bits of mud clicking together in her long tresses. "You don't think this adds to the ensemble?" At his look Muirin sighed. "Do you think you can sneak me into your place so I can shower?"

"You're speakin' to Remy LeBeau, mon chere, of course I can."

Remy lived up to his word, and his reputation, and had managed to sneak her and Caroline into "le mansion" without a fuss and Muirin had managed to shower and redress in record time. Caroline had settled on brushing and braiding her hair after she'd washed her face and hands; sadly, her dress could not be saved. Remy had not managed to get Muirin's outfit clean during her shower and had instead offered her a few accessories to "animer" her new clothing. He'd made her wear a necklace, one that he'd most likely pilfered from some poor seduced wench, and also included his own watch, stating that professors who didn't wear watches couldn't be trusted. Muirin had had to roll her eyes at his statement and had quickly followed him back to where they'd stashed her car so she could properly drive up to the mansion as was expected for her interview. When she'd finally driven up, with one minute to spare, she saw another car, that of a red, classic, muscle car, had also driven up and stepping out of the car were two individuals: a young girl and what looked to be a tall, formerly well-dressed academic type. Formerly because it looked like his shirt had been torn in places and as he stepped away from the car, she saw his pants had been as well. What was it with this day and people getting into accidents?


	4. Peanut Butter and Pickles

_Thank you for your continued support and encouragement. Please feel free to leave critiques or praise (we welcome both). Cheers!_

* * *

Military brat that she was, Jem had seen her fair share of architecture through the years. Some of it had been damn impressive. She'd toured through no-longer-lived-in castles and visited enough military headquarters to think herself a bit of an expert on what qualified as an expansive building that hid secrets. Xavier's School for Gifted Youngsters, however, still managed to make her jaw itch in her attempt to keep it shut. The building itself was beautifully designed and clearly made to be a home and not a school. A home for the upper crust to be sure, but still a home. If the school was as fancy and well-mannered as the building looked then she was about to make some teachers very uncomfortable, and perhaps an enemy or two out of the students as well.

A smile tilted crookedly across Jem's face and she pushed open the door, stepping out into the sunshine, pausing a moment before leaning back in to collect her bag from the floor. The weight of it settling on her shoulder felt heavier than it had earlier in the day. Whether that was due to fresh bruises or some sort of emotional finality, she wasn't sure but since it was easier she decided to blame her purpling skin.

Across the bit of paved driveway another vehicle had spilled forth its occupants. The woman stepping out of the car didn't look old but she certainly didn't appear to be of student age. A teacher perhaps? Or a parent depositing her offspring someplace out of harm's way. The latter option seemed more likely as the other occupant of the car was a child, much younger than Jem herself, who had the wide-eyed look of a street waif caught in the flashlights of a policeman.

"Thanks."

The word pulled Jem's attention away from the other vehicle and back towards her own escort. "You're welcome," she said, though she had no idea what she was being thanked for. Maybe if she was polite Hank would skip the grand tour and take her straight to the kitchen. It was rude to wander away from a tour guide but she'd do it if it came down to choosing between tour and food. Food always took precedence.

"For helping with the car," he continued, "and not panicking over the other thing."

"Oh you know," Jem waved a hand flippantly, "happens all the time. Magnet for mischief and all that. Though I must say the coordinated outfits was new." Tilting her head in the direction of the other arrivals she asked, "More new students?"

Hank glanced towards the other vehicle and there was an immediate stiffening of his shoulders. Amongst the insanity that picking up Jem had devolved into, he'd completely forgotten about the interview of the new potential professor and now he was in no ready state to be her guide. Torn clothes, disheveled hair, and busted up shoes was not an acceptable appearance for a professor and did not portray with any accuracy the level of professionalism that the school operated with. However since Dr. Foley would no doubt be expecting someone to meet her and it had originally been meant to be him, he couldn't very well leave her standing there.

Jem followed along behind as Hank made his way to greet the other woman, having no better idea of where she was supposed to go. Presumably inside at some point but beyond that she had no clue. A house like this was bound to be fun to explore but not with all her belongings in tow.

"Hello Dr. Foley," Hank did his best to appear professional in spite of his clothing, "I'm Dr. McCoy, the science professor and at times assistant to the school nurse." Jem could see from her vantage point that Hank's smile that he offered the newly arrived woman was bright and his mannerisms said much about a gentle and genuine spirit. Jem had to admit that she was a bit impressed. He looked like a cat had mauled him and yet he was rather pulling it off now. Mentally, she gave him a standing ovation. Physically, however, she readjusted her bag and waited for her presence to be remembered.

"I apologize for my appearance and for this inconvenience. However, my student and I met with an unfortunate incident on our way here and I'm afraid I'm in no condition to show you around as we'd originally arranged."

The woman, did Hank say doctor?, smiled whereas the little girl raised one eyebrow. Jem nodded in the girl's direction. Little sprite had a good talent there.

"You look like you got mugged."

Jem laughed and didn't bother covering it up with a cough; there weren't coordinating Suits nearby to stifle her laughter. She couldn't hear what the woman/doctor said to the little girl over her own laughter but she was well aware of the glare that Hank sent her. She didn't feel threatened but since it was her first day, and since they had managed to bond over a flat tire, she did her best to trim back her enthusiasm at his expense.

"I'm sorry Dr. McCoy," the woman/doctor was saying then, "Caroline is hungry and I'm afraid she's like most ten-year-olds when hungry. Doesn't have much of a verbal filter."

"Does anyone?" Jem couldn't help but interject. "When they're hungry that is."

The little girl's lips tilted upward in what could perhaps, if one squinted while crossing their eyes, be called a smile in response to Jem's comment.

"I think can help with that," Hank spoke up.

"The filter," Jem smiled at his glare, "or the food? I'd certainly like to tag along if it's the latter. Not the former though. Filter's aren't really my style."

Hank bit back a juvenile retort and instead motioned for the newcomers to follow him up the stairs. They were just inside the door, stepping into a large receiving room that again reminded Jem that this mansion was meant for the affluent members of society and not snarky ankle biters like herself, when Hank signalled to a passing student. At least Jem assumed it was a passing student since he didn't look like an old fogey nor a stuffy academic either.

"Alexander," Hank gestured for the man to come closer, "would you please escort these two young ladies to the kitchen?" The tall, obviously well-muscled man, raised his eyebrows in response. "They're hungry."

Alexander rolled his eyes, "I know why a person would want to go to the kitchen, just don't know why I have to be the one to do it."

"My guess would be because you conveniently walked by," Jem pointed out helpfully, smiling her sweetest smile.

Alexander turned icy blue eyes on Jem, looking at her as if she'd just popped into existence on the back of leprechauns. Before he could say something in response to Jem's spot-on logic, Hank was speaking again.

"Were you in the process of doing something that could not be postponed momentarily? If so then I'll find someone else, if not then," Hank looked pleadingly at the blonde, "would you please show them the way."

If there wasn't a silent, 'Get this girl away from me before I strangle her,' embedded in the plea then Jem would no longer be able to consider herself an astute observer of the human and mutant condition. She knew she could probably afford to be a little less tedious at the moment but she really was hungry and never had learned to cope with that well.

"Fine." Boy did he sound petulant. "It's this way." He turned on his heel and started away without bothering to look to see if either Jem or the little girl were following.

Jem turned to the girl who shared her affinity for food and gestured after the boy in a dramatic fashion. "What say you and I follow the grouch and get something to eat? I make a mean peanut butter and whatever you please sandwich."

The little girl looked up to the woman/doctor before moving. The woman/doctor person studied Jem, as if gauging whether or not Jem was the type to eat children with her peanut butter and whatever sandwiches.

"I promise to save all my children eating for other rugrats," Jem grinned, turning her gaze towards the woman/doctor.

The woman/doctor smirked, showing that she at least had an appreciation for snark that so far no one else had. She looked back down to the girl and nodded, "Caroline you can go with this young lady." She looked back up and raised one eyebrow as well. Jem liked her more already. "I'm sorry, I didn't catch your name."

"Jemima if you wish to deal in technicalities but it's Jem to all who wish to remain on friendly terms with me." She heaved a long suffering sigh. "My parents did not consult me when selecting my moniker or I assure you I'd have made a strong objection."

"Jemima is a nice name-"

"My favorite pancake syrup is called _Aunt Jemima's._ " Caroline, the little girl, interupted the woman/doctor.

The woman/doctor touched Caroline's shoulder to silence her, "It is still a nice name," the woman/doctor smiled again, "Caroline please stay with Jem until I come back for you. And try to be polite, eh?"

As if to solidify the fact that they were now to part ways the petulant blonde from before audibly sighed from where he now stood in the far corner of the receiving room. Additionally, Hank began to move in the opposite direction, gesturing for the woman/doctor to follow him.

With her small shadow in tow, Jem walked leisurely across the open space towards the blonde, part of it was an act but then again she was also feeling a bit stiff from her run in with the seat belt earlier and speed walking wasn't really in her just then. Once she got close enough to reasonably talk without shouting she said, "Alex, was it? We're in your care so please take us to the kitchens and not some man eating squid hidden in the basement. Though I suppose," she murmured, considering, "calamari does sound pretty good."

Their escort rolled his eyes and turned on his heel down the hall, "This way to the kitchen."

Jem let the silence collapse around their small group, her eyes too busy taking in the details of the halls to verbally badger the blonde boy. Habit made her map the path they'd taken so that she could, at the very least, find her way back to the front door. Once upon a time she didn't pay attention to such things and always wound up getting lost in each successive new school. She'd picked up the talent pretty quickly after she'd accidentally walked into a sex ed class for eighth graders when she was in third. Funny how a proper incentive could help with learning new talents.

Thoughts of mapping out the house were momentarily forgotten when the trio plodded into the kitchen. It was by far the biggest kitchen she'd ever been in. Beyond that it was all top of the line with up to date appliances and more cabinets than a person could ever hope to use.

Slinging her duffle onto the floor beside a stool, Jem set about poking through the cupboards. There were bound to be rules on what was and wasn't to be eaten by specific people but seeing as she was new she doubted that even if she snagged the wrong item, no one would get too bent out of shape about it. Except perhaps their grumbly guide. "So," she tilted her head in Caroline's direction to indicate she was addressing her, "what do you feel like eating? About all I know how to make are sandwiches, pasta, and soup. Though that could take awhile."

"I like sandwiches," Caroline answered, soft.

Clambering onto the countertop, knees tucked under her so that she could reach the plates, Jem's gaze flicked briefly to the girl. Of course not every child was bound to be as rambunctious as she had been but there was a certain sadness that clung to the kid like a second skin, almost palpable in the air around her. It was heartbreaking to see.

"So instead of asking for help," Alexander's voice reminded Jem that he'd yet to leave, "you'd rather climb up on the countertop like a-"

Jem turned her head to glare at him as she interrupted, "If you are contemplating an insult that makes out to be less than human with that comment," Jem waved a plate in his direction, "then I'll not make you a sandwich." When all of Alexander's response was to roll his eyes Jem grinned, "Alright then!" she slid back to the ground with three plates in her hand. "Three peanut butter pickle sandwiches coming right up." Before anyone could object about the odd concoction she continued, "I know, sounds like something you'd eat on a dare but I swear it tastes fantastic." A scoff from the peanut gallery pulled Jem's head around as she shuffled through drawers in search of cutlery. "Doubt me huh? I'm making you one too so you'll have to eat your words after you finish my masterpiece."

"You're very confident for a self-professed lousy cook," Alexander remarked, leaning back against the wall, a faint smirk playing about his lips. "Knives: second drawer from your left. No, second." Alexander stepped forward and opened said drawer when Jem hadn't managed to open it quickly enough, staring down at Jem as if she weren't of sound mind. He might have something there. Jem smiled innocently up at him as she reached in and without breaking eye contact, withdrew a knife. Alexander raised an eyebrow but didn't retreat from her personal space, almost as if he dared her to say or do something impulsively threatening.

From the stool she'd climbed onto, Caroline remarked, "You two sound like those really old married couples."

Brought back from the stare-down with Alexander, Jem's smile cracked into a laugh as she deposited her supplies on the counter. "Maybe it's destiny," she fluttered her eyelashes, pulling bread out and beginning to slather each piece with peanut butter.

"My destiny would have less pickles in it."

Scraping the peanut butter laden knife over a slice of bread, Jem snorted. The words sounded less than friendly but there was amusement in Alexander's voice that hadn't been there before. She was pretty sure it was because of their young tagalong and not her but that was fine. "If that's the case then I pity you," she dropped the sliced pickles onto the bread, "because pickles are amazing." A brief pause then, "Unless you accidentally bite into a sweet pickle expecting dill." Jem shuddered at the thought. "Anywho, lunch is served!"

With her declaration made, Jem slid one of the sandwiches across the counter to Caroline and carried the other to Alexander, handing it to him with a mocking bow. Not bothering to wait for an answer, she strolled back to the counter to join the younger girl. For all her sarcasm she really was quite hungry, her stomach stretching like an empty chasm inside her. She'd overslept and would have missed her flight if she'd waited any longer, resulting in a banana only breakfast that had not stayed with her very long. It was nearly one in the afternoon now and she was starving.

"So," she said around a mouthful of wonderfulness, "what do you think?"

Caroline was chewing her sandwich very slowly, a contemplative look on her young features. "I don't know," she admitted after a moment. "It's kinda weird."

Jem laughed. "I'll give you that. But weird sorta suits this place. I mean," she paused for emphasis, "look who our escort was. I think they may have purchased him from some American Jock magazine."

A small smile cracked over Caroline's lips. "Yes," she agreed as Alexander made an irritated sound around his mouthful of food, "The beachy model."

The laughter that time wasn't just Jem's but Alexander's as well. "You're a cool kid," Jem grinned, standing to begin shoving things back where they belonged while she polished off the rest of her snack. She caught a glimpse of her reflection in the window as she dropped her plate into the sink and sighed. So much for the braid she'd battled her hair into earlier that morning. The medium brown strands hung half-in and half-out of the french braid that stopped just past her shoulders. Then again, she had been in something of a car wreck so it wasn't completely unexpected.

Tugging the band that held her hair up free, Jem drug her fingers through her hair to comb it out, intending to pull it into a ponytail once the worst of the knots were out. While she messed with it, her gaze swung over to Alexander to discover that he'd finished the sandwich she'd given him. "I see you survived."

"It wasn't the worst thing I've ever eaten," he agreed, dropping his plate on top of hers in the sink. He looked at the water faucet and then pointedly looked at her hands then down at the plates.

Eyes rolling, Jem was about to respond to his wordless suggestion, and his gibe, when Caroline interrupted. "I don't feel good."

One look at the pale, trembling girl and Jem couldn't help but wonder if her guardian might come after her for potentially poisoning her charge. Considering the woman/doctor had looked at her like she might eat the kid, Jem doubted she'd be very understanding if Jem returned her in less-than-perfect condition. "Stomach or something else?" she asked, immediately moving to Caroline's side, Alexander on her heels.

"Stomach," the girl whimpered, leaning over her half-eaten sandwich as if sitting up straight weren't really an option anymore.

"I bet it was your sandwich," Alexander commented as he pressed his hand to Caroline's forehead. "Maybe a little warm."

Jem ignored the jibe at her cooking and moved to help Caroline off her stool. "Instead of mocking my masterpiece perhaps you could show us to the infirmary. As I remember you ate the whole thing almost faster than I did."

Refraining from commenting any further on the food, because, Jem suspected he'd actually enjoyed it, Alexander motioned for the girls to follow him. "This way. I just hope someone is there."

"Muirin can help," Caroline piped up, a distinct sheen of sweat on her forehead. "I want to see Muirin."

"Once we get you to a bed I'll make sure she knows to come," Jem promised, eyeing her bag a moment before deciding no one would likely bother it. Besides she could always make said individual's life miserable if she came back and her stuff was disturbed. Which could be quite entertaining. And something to consider later. Jem focused her attention on the girl, who was nodding a slow agreement to her words. Slinging an arm around the smaller girl so that Caroline could press any amount of weight she wished into her side, Jem once again fell into step behind Alexander, though this time they moved at a much slower pace.

Several minutes later found them in the infirmary which was distressingly empty. After helping Caroline onto a bed, Jem sat down on the edge of the mattress and began running her fingers through the younger girl's hair. She wasn't sure it'd help but the vague memories she had of her mom doing that for her when she didn't feel well were soothing ones. Glancing at Alexander she mouthed a silent, "Now what?"

His response was to look around helplessly and shrug which did not make Jem feel better.


	5. Interviewing for a storm

_A reminder: some of the characters may seem AU from the current films and that is become they are an amalgamation of the old comics, cartoons, as well as a mashup of all the films. Storm is the same age (and actress) as she would be in the previous films (not current) while Charles and Erik are young as they are in current films. So timelines are a "mess" as well. I thank you for your patience, and suspension of belief. Cheers!_

* * *

Once Caroline disappeared around the corner with her escorts, Jem and Alexander, Hank turned to Muirin with a sheepish smile.

"Again, my apologies for not being able to follow through with our original plan. I can take you part of the way but then I'm afraid I'll have to leave you."

Muirin smiled but shook her head, "Thank you for the apology Dr. McCoy, but could you do me a favor?" She had to tip her head back a bit since he was taller than her. "Call me Muirin. I fear the formalities might choke me a wee bit."

"Then call me Hank." His smile grew wider and he held out his hand. Muirin took it without reservation, pleased that his handshake wasn't too firm or rough nor did he attempt to assert himself over her through it.

They were interrupted when two rushing teenagers came barreling around the corner, near running straight into them. In order to avoid being collided with, Muirin had to step into Hank's personal space abruptly, causing him to fall back against the wall behind him. Once the teens were past, Muirin gave Hank an apologetic smile as she stepped back again. She felt a little bad that in the momentary chaos she'd forgotten to let go of Hank's hand and only did so now that the teens had moved on down the corridor. In response to that fact, Hank's cheeks were a bit red, a blush no doubt, but he disguised it by turning his head to call after to the retreating teens.

"Alisa! Jonas!" Hank shouted. "Don't run in the halls." His voice lacked the teacherly authority needed to cease such rambunctious activities, and the teenagers knew this as they kept right on running until they disappeared around a corner. "I'm sorry about that."

Before Muirin could respond she very nearly backed up into another person, only this time it was most definitely not a student. She stepped forward and turned around to find herself eye-to-eye with what had to be one of the most masculine looking men she'd set eyes on, at least in this century. Extremely MALE men were not often created these days, and she was old enough to make a comparative scale. It seemed with each passing century, the division between male and female lessened and fairly soon, she feared, there would be no more men and no more women but only an androgynous society left. She hadn't seen this feral form of masculinity for at least five centuries and to smell it, see it, and near taste it so suddenly was a bit overwhelming. It brought back memories of men she'd known before, both intimately and not so intimately, and for a moment the faces of all these men, long dead, all morphed together to form the face of the man leering at her now.

"See something you like lady?" His voice was just as strong as his aura and his accent decidedly not from around these parts.

"Logan." Hank was suddenly moving forward out of her peripherals. "This is DOCTOR Foley." He put added emphasis on her title, as if that would deter the man brooding before her. He wasn't handsome in a classic sense, but this Logan was MALE and he exuded testosterone like it was cologne. "She's interviewing with Ororo about the position as the performing arts teacher."

The man, Logan, continued to eye her up, as if to gage how appetizing she'd be if he were to smother her with cream right there—at least that was the feeling she got from him. Muirin refrained from fanning herself. It had been quite a while since she'd encountered such blatant sexual appraisal.

"I see you've met mon amie." Remy had impeccable timing, as ever, and sidled up to Muirin. He placed his arm over her shoulder and pulled her close to his side. She glanced over to Hank first and watched as surprise and what looked to be mild disgust—directed towards Remy—fell across his otherwise cute features. When she looked back to Logan she saw his lip curl upwards in a silent snarl. "It has been much too long, chere." Remy used his hand not currently resting on her shoulder to reach down, take hold of her own, and place a kiss on the back of it.

"I was unaware that you two were acquainted." Hank's confused voice broke through Muirin's momentary flare-up of frustration.

Remy turned his eyes upon Hank and replied before Muirin could, "Mon dieu, Hank. What happened to you? Your vetements, they are, beyond repair."

"The new student and I," Hank looked down at his hands, "we met with an incident on our way back from the airport."

Remy dropped his arm from Muirin's shoulder and grabbed hold of Hank's shirt, or what was left of it, "And mon voiture? Mon tres beau voiture?"

Hank looked over Remy's shoulder towards Logan, who aside from sexually assaulting Muirin with his eyes had said and done little, "Logan, would you please show Doctor Foley to Ororor's office. I need to talk to Remy."

"I don't think you're going to be doing much talking, furrball." Hank dragged, or was dragged by, Remy back in the direction they'd come and Muirin was left with the sexual predator.

"Doctor, eh?"

Muirin raised her eyebrows, "Yes. And you?"

"I ain't no doctor," he grunted, "that's for damn sure." Logan turned and continued down the hall Hank had originally begun to lead her down. "It's this way."

"Thank you, Mister Logan," Muirin fell into step beside him. He walked with confidence and in fact, he didn't walk so much as he stalked. This man, whatever his mutation may be, was only barely civilized. Muirin could recognize that even without having spent much time with him. Back in the Pictish days of Ireland, many men walked as this man did now; many of them carried themselves in this fashion, not attempting to disguise if they liked or disliked something or someone. Muirin was confident that this man Logan would not refrain from physical violence in any fashion should he be threatened. A far cry from the diplomatic aura Hank exuded.

"It's just Logan. And my but you've got manners." Logan sneered at her as they moved side-by-side. "Did that come with all the doctorly classes?"

Muirin laughed and shook her head, "Heavens no. I've just learned how to create a veneer of impeccably spot-on manners to throw folks off the truth."

They'd arrived outside a large wooden door then, where Logan stopped and turned to face her. His appraisal was once more warmed with sexual interest and Muirin responded to the compliment as any other warm-blooded woman would: with a reciprocal stare. Logan's lips tilted upward in a smirk when he noticed her responding perusal.

"And what's the truth, Doctor Foley?" Coming from him, her title sounded more like a challenge.

Muirin stepped closer, close enough in fact that if she sneezed she'd head-butt him. She paused long enough for both of them to inhale and exhale once before she replied, "That inside, I'm just as feral as you."

He reacted as she thought he would, by tensing up and breaking eye-contact. It seemed that though this man had a wild side, he hadn't quite come to terms with it fully. Neither retreated from the challenge of personal space, however, and when the door opened, the woman standing in the doorway found Logan and Muirin staring each other down, near toe-to-toe.

"Good afternoon Dr. Foley." When Muirin turned she sawan exotic-looking beauty straight out of an Edgar Rice Burroughs novel approach her. "I'm Ororo Munroe, the vice principal." They shook hands then Ororo looked over at Logan. "I thought Hank was supposed to escort Dr. Foley here."

"He was." Was all Logan said before he gave Muirin one last lingering stare and turned and stalked away.

Ororo sighed whereas Muirin chuckled, "Doctor McCoy said that he encountered some trouble on his way back from the airport with a new student." When Ororo's eyes widened and she looked ready to bolt past Muirin to find Hank herself, Muirin quickly added. "I saw the student and Hank both earlier and aside from Hank's disheveled clothing and a small cut above the student's eye, they looked none-the-worse for wear."

"Ah," Ororo continued to frown as she looked over Muirin's shoulder a moment longer, "thank you for the report. I'll be certain to talk to him later about that." She returned her gaze to Muirin then and gestured for her to precede her into the office. "I trust the mansion wasn't too difficult to find?"

"Oh no, I've a good sense of direction." Muirin smiled as she sat down in the chair opposite Ororo's, a giant wooden desk separating them. "The mansion and grounds are absolutely lovely. I can see how this would be the perfect place for a school. Plenty of sunlight and fresh air and without the distractions of a city nearby."

Ororo's face briefly grew shuttered, as if she were thinking of the many implications of what Muirin had said, when in all honesty Muirin had only been thinking just that and not that being so isolated was also good in case one of the students or faculty had a mental break and let loose their powers on the neighboring area. Though now that she thought about it, that also made sense.

"Yes, Charles has done a splendid job in making sure that everything is well-maintained. That's Charles Xavier I mean, Professor X as many of the students call him. Usually he does these interviews, as he is the principal, however he is otherwise engaged at the moment." Ororo picked up the papers Muirin just noticed lying in front of her on the desk. "Let's get down to business shall we? I must say your resume is impeccable and your recommendations are quite noteworthy."

Muirin nodded, already knowing these things to be true. After so many lifetimes, with so many different vocations, in so many different countries, it had become easy for her to collect and redistribute various recommendations and qualifications as was needed. Even the most advanced forger had nothing on her, as she had been one at one time, and with a background check, each one of the recommendations Ororo was currently looking at would checkout. As for her qualifications, she had spent the time to gather all the additional acronyms to her name and hadn't needed to fabricate those. She genuinely enjoyed learning new things and given her near immortal nature, she hadn't felt a few years in higher education here and there was a waste.

"However, may I be frank Dr. Foley?"

"Only if you call me Muirin."

Ororo smiled as she set aside the papers and leaned forward, "You are a highly qualified professor who from the looks of it could have your pick of any position from near any university in the world." She paused and shifted in her seat, as if the movement would give her added strength to say the next portion of her comments. "This school, as you well know, is a unique school for students with unique abilities. While we strive to maintain an academic curriculum that is a cut-above your average private school, we also have to keep the unique needs of our students in mind. You, Muirin, are not possessing any such abilities that the rest of our professors or students have."

"Is this a cautionary tale, Ms. Munroe, or are you about to deny my application simply because I lack the same unique capabilities that the rest of the staff and student body hold?" Before Ororo could speak further Muirin shifted forward on her own chair and continued. "I would think that as a spokeswoman of such a demographic as you've alluded to thus far, you would be hyper-sensitive to the idea of discrimination."

"That is not what I meant, Dr. Foley." Ororo's eyes widened and one of her hands raised in the air as if to grab away any offensive words.

"I did not think so, as your mannerisms did not speak to someone who would harbor such sentiments. One doesn't have to have telepathic or have hyper-empathic abilities to sense that." Muirin offered Ororo a smile and was satisfied to see the woman relax, at least a little. "You are correct in that I am not a, I believe media refers to your demographic as mutant," she shook her head, "not my favorite term but you are correct in that I do not possess any such mutant abilities." She wasn't lying, she wasn't a mutant, but she also wasn't human and was thankful that Ororo hadn't challenged her status as a human. She really hated blatant lying. "However, I can answer your question as to why I would want to work here, out of all the universities. You see I am the guardian of a young girl, Caroline."

Ororo's eyes again widened, and continued to do so as Muirin explained the abilities of Caroline. She did keep to herself just how exactly Muirin had managed to save Caroline; her forgery abilities had concocted papers that reported the death of Caroline's parents in a car accident and her own subsequent guardianship of Caroline based off of her being distant relation to Caroline's mother. The best lies always had smidgens of truth in them. By the time she finished her tale, she noticed Ororo's face had softened and her shoulders seemed even more relaxed.

"I can see, now, why you would seek employment here." Ororo glanced back down at Muirin's resume then looked up again with a smile. "Let me talk this over with Charles and we'll get back to you within a day or so in regards to your future employment here. However, in the meantime," she opened a drawer and pulled out a folder, "these are the enrollment papers. If you care to, you may begin filling them out for Caroline. I understand that she is much younger than our average student, but from the sounds of it I believe she could benefit from tutoring with our professors as well as staying here as she gains further knowledge and control over her powers."

Muirin took the folder and nodded, "Thank you for your time Ms. Munroe." She stood.

Ororo followed suit and moved with her towards the door, "Am I to assume correctly in that you are past acquaintances with Remy LeBeau?"

Muirin looked over to the woman to see that her gaze was on the watch. She sighed. Remy had most likely made her wear the watch as a way of showing a connection to him. Now, more than likely, Ororo would think that the acquaintanceship was one of romantic ties. The Cajun rascal. Either having him as a personal reference would be in her favor or a hindrance; most likely the latter, considering the man himself.

"We met in Europe some years back while I was working at a university in the Normandy region. He was a precocious fiend that somehow charmed his way into becoming a friend of sorts." At least that much was the truth. "When I saw him today he gave me his watch to wear and told me professors are untrustworthy unless they wear watches." She glanced down and noticed that Ororo wasn't wearing a watch. Both women shared a smile before Ororo leaned forward and opened the door for Muirin. "Thank you again for your time Ms. Munroe."

"Please," the exotic beauty gave Muirin another smile, "call me Ororo." She motioned to a point over Muirin's shoulder and she turned to see a re-dressed Hank approaching. "I look forward to speaking with you again soon Muirin."

Hank came up to them and Ororo gestured for him to follow her, "I trust you can find your own way to the door, Muirin? I'm afraid I must steal your escort away for the time being."

Muirin nodded, "I understand." She waiting and watched as Ororo and Hank continued on down the corridor to yet another large wooden door. When the door opened she had just enough time to look inside and see a man sitting in a wheelchair. He made eye contact in that brief moment and Muirin held her the door closed off his gaze and Muirin could've sworn she felt something tickle at the edge of her brain.

She'd encountered telepaths before but never had one been able to read her thoughts. Perhaps it was because her draconian brain was not set up in a way that human telepaths could read it as even in human form she still maintained the DNA sequence and mindset that she did in dragon form. To have one now-and it was undoubtedly that man in the wheelchair, Charles Xavier-be able to tickle at the edges of her mind was a bit disconcerting. He must be very strong and very good at what he did in order to reach that far inside her.

"Mon chere, you weren't thinkin' of departin' with mon dear timepiece now were you?" Remy suddenly appeared beside her and reached down to take hold of her wrist in order to tap the face of the watch. "You know that's been in mon familie for generations."

Muirin snorted, "You took this timepiece from a chauvinistic prig in a café in Paris." She shrugged off his arm and set about unhooking the watch. "I watched you do this in retaliation for how the man was treating his date, who, may I add, left the café with you right after that." Muirin grabbed Remy's hand and dropped the watch into his waiting palm.

Remy closed his fingers around the watch at the same time that he brought up his other hand to touch his heart in feigned hurt, "Moi? I would do such a thing?" Muirin raised an eyebrow and Remy laughed. "Of course, I would."

The door at the end of the hall opened and Hank came rushing towards them, Ororo and the other man close behind. Hank paused long enough to say, "Follow me," before he rushed onward. Muirin exchanged a look with Remy, glanced down to see the wheelchair man now beside her, before she followed quickly on Hank's heels. They wound their way past the receiving room where they'd first entered and began in the direction that Caroline had disappeared with Jem and Alexander. Muirin began to feel disquieted; if Charles Xavier was a telepath, or something similar, then he'd be aware of when a student was in danger within the school grounds. Based off the fact that Hank was leading the way, and he'd earlier said he worked as the medical doctor when necessary, Muirin had little doubt that they were heading towards trouble. That the trouble was in the same direction as Caroline had gone, and that Hank told her to follow...Muirin increased her steps until she kept pace directly beside Hank.

Turning sharply into a room, Muirin paused long enough in the doorway to take in the scene before her. The boy, Alexander, stood at the head of a bed, his hands on the shoulders of Caroline, who was bent over the lap of Jem, vomiting out what looked to be the remnants of whatever it was Jem had tried to feed her for lunch. Muirin cursed herself for momentarily overlooking Caroline's unique dietary needs. She didn't blame Jem in the slightest, and in fact now she felt much pity towards the girl as it was her lap that was now the home of Caroline's stomach contents.

Finished with her heaving, Caroline looked up to see Muirin. The small girl reached for Muirin, and Muirin took a step towards her, seconds before Caroline's entire form dissipated into a mist.


	6. To ease a conscience

"What-"

"Mon dieu."

"Damn."

"I'm so sorry."

Hank, Remy, Muirin, and Jem all spoke at the same time. Muirin was aware of Ororo and Charles coming up behind her, taking in the scene quietly-at least quietly thus far. Hank rushed forward and stared down at the bed Caroline had been on moments before, glancing back at Muirin in what looked to be confused fear.

"Can she teleport?" Ororo's voice was calm when she spoke up from behind Muirin's shoulder.

Muirin shook her head, "No, she can dissipate her body down to a near molecular level. She's still here." Muirin had walked forward while she spoke and now stood beside Hank, looking down at the bed. If you knew what to look for you could see a faint fog-like substance congealing in a heap near the middle of the bed. "When she's frightened or angry she does this; and now I know she also does it when she's not feeling well."

"The vomit couldn't dissipate too?" Jem muttered to no one in particular, gaze locked on the half-digested mess in her lap.

"It may be her body's instinctive response to negative stimuli, a survival technique." Hank narrowed his eyes at the foggy mass. "When she comes back from this state what is she like?"

"Tired and contrite." Hank raised his eyebrows and Muirin smiled. "Like I said, usually she does this when she's upset with me or afraid to do something. She can't maintain this status for very long. The most she was able to do was about five minutes."

"Do you know what caused her to be ill?"

Muirin turned her gaze over to Jem, "What exactly did you guys eat for lunch?"

"Peanut butter and pickle sandwiches." Alexander offered up the answer before Jem could.

Near everyone in the room grimaced at the idea, everyone except Remy. He filed it away for experimentation at a later time.

"Ah," Muirin nodded before looking back down at the bed, "she has problems with most solid foods. I actually have had to do blood transfusions and multiple IV's to help her cycle out toxins and get nutrients. She's typically on a liquid diet, juices and smoothies, and I've found simple soups are okay." She looked over to Jem and offered the girl what she hoped looked to be an apologetic expression, "I completely overlooked that today in the rush to get here on time. We also had a few incidents on our way to the school and were almost late."

"No worries," Jem managed, "I'm just glad my sandwich has been cleared." She grinned pointedly at Alexander. "And you thought it could've been my masterpiece. Oh ye of little faith."

Just as suddenly as she'd disappeared, Caroline's body reappeared then, in near the same spot that she'd been when she'd disappeared. Only this time she was unconscious. Hank quickly took her vital signs then announced that he'd start up an IV for her while she rested. While he put his skills to use assisting Caroline, Alexander appeared by Jem's side, holding both a plastic trash can as well as a roll of paper towels, with a wet rag lying across his forearm. He placed the trash can just beside Jem's legs so that when she stood up the vomit would naturally fall into the garbage bag. The towel he held out to Jem.

Surprised by the sudden gesture of gentlemanliness, Jem blinked at the offering a time or two before Alexander shoved the towel into her hands and stood by with the paper towels. Face scrunched in obvious distaste, Jem stood, face turning slightly green over the wet sloshing sound the pile of upchuck made as the majority of it splashed into the trash can at her feet. She looked up just in time to see the only other man in the room besides Hank, at least non-wheelchaired man, smirking at her. Remy pitied the girl, both of girls really, but he still found the wakeful one's facial expressions, and her current predicament, to be of some amusement. Her earlier snark in the face of the crisis also increased his entertainment level.

"Doctor Foley," Charles spoke for the first time and all eyes turned towards him, "may I have a word with you in private? I believe Hank has everything here under control." At Hank's nod, Charles moved his chair backwards before pivoting and moving on through the door.

Muirin hesitated just long enough to run a hand over Caroline's forehead before she nodded to Hank, patted Jem's shoulder, and moved to join Charles in the hallway.

Jem nodded at Muirin's touch, too busy with the towel she'd been given to do much else. It was a tricky process, trying to use the towel to scrape the mess from her clothing without accidentally touching any of it or then touching a part of the towel that had already been passed through the mess. Knowing that her clothes were on the other side of the house in a duffle bag she was hoping no one disturbed in her absence did not help her feel better. She'd find it eventually of course but if she got trapped in vomit soaked pants while hunting her belongings down, her mood would not be the sort that'd make positive first impressions. When the big globs were gone, and boy did thinking about that not help her own stomach, Jem wiggled her fingers at Alexander to indicate her need of the paper towels. She used them to pat dry what she could then dumped the whole lot into the trash can.

"Hank," Ororo spoke up then, drawing the doctor's attention, "when you have things to a point where you can step aside, we should finish our debriefing about the earlier incident."

Hank nodded, "Just give me a moment." He set about rechecking the connections of Caroline's IV before he turned to the only other relative adult in the room, Remy. Hank narrowed his eyes at his limited options, who in turn crossed his arms over his chest and smiled in response. "Remy, can I trust you to let me know the minute the girl wakes up?"

"Mon confiance should never be questioned." Hank remained where he stood and Remy sighed. "Oui, I shall look over la petite fille as if she were my own blood."

Hank started out the door, mumbling as he went, "Somehow that doesn't comfort me in the slightest."

"Point of interest," Jem interrupted before Hank could completely make his escape. "I need pants. Any pants. Or I might just add to the mess I just cleaned."

"Alexander," Hank looked over to the blonde who had up to that point maintained his mildly disgusted attention upon Jem's efforts to clean herself up, "could you go retrieve Ms. Ritter's bag from wherever it was you two left it?"

Alexander looked none too pleased to not only be Jem's cleaning knight but also her retrieval knight, but he left with a nod and a barely concealed sigh. Hank looked back to Remy who made shooing motions with his hands. Glancing between the still unconscious Caroline and the pathetic looking Jem, he sighed. He felt rather like he was leaving an epileptic in charge of a china shop but it couldn't be helped.

"Maintenant," Remy clapped his hands together as he faced Jem, "am I correct in assuming that it was you who was with mon ami McCoy when the 'incident' which rendered mon voiture crippled occurred?"

"Oui," Jem nodded, slipping into the bit of French she knew out of reflex. Her everyday speech in the language was rusty since she consistently only used it to curse but the basics were still within her grasp. "Was by far the most interesting car ride I've had. Though considering the car we could have had an uneventful trip and I'm sure it'd still have ranked up in my top five." She paused, thoughtful, "Well, perhaps with a more daring driver."

"How much do you think that vehicle is worth?" Remy waved his hands in the air, "What they say 'ballpark figure.'"

Gnawing the inside of her lower lip, Jem took a moment to think through her answer. In truth she had absolutely no idea how much the vehicle was worth. She'd never looked at the prices of the cars she admired since every last one of them was in the 'above my budget' price range. Whenever she'd needed a lift somewhere she'd sweet talked someone into giving her one. Or blackmailed them. Prices had never come up.

While Jem continued to ponder the answer, Remy turned and rummaged through a nearby drawer until he found what he was looking for. He turned around and place a bandaid and an alcohol pad on the bed beside Jem, not wanting to risk contamination in touching her. He pointed to the cut above her eye.

"There is a matching mark inside mon voiture now." Remy leaned against the counter just behind him and crossed his arms over his chest. "Un petit problem: mon voiture cannot be so healed with simple pansement and pommade."

"I do apologize for that." Jem picked up the alcohol swab and scrubbed it across the cut above her eye, flinching slightly over the stinging sensation. The bandaid was more difficult as she had no mirror to help her see just where she should be attaching the bandage to her skin. She got it lined up on the third try and smoothed the adhesive down, ignoring that it was slightly bumpy where she'd mangled it.

Remy smirked, "Ah, apologies. They are like gastrite. Easy to give off but quick to dissipate." Remy shook his head and clicked his tongue against the roof of his mouth, "No, mon petite amie, I shall require more than an apology from you."

An eye roll was Jem's initial response but when it became clear that Remy expected something more she added, "I'm broke if that's what you're after. Besides, technically speaking I was just the hapless tagalong. Suits one through three hardly cared about my presence at all."

"I have secured financial compensation from McCoy already. You, mon cherie," Remy continued to smirk in her direction, "will be the one who looks after mon voiture until all repairs can be made. You will clean it, polish it, coddle it, and sing to it until I say otherwise."

It wouldn't do to let the confident, arrogant man see that she actually found the prospect of being allowed to consistently touch his beautiful car to be an appealing one. She would hate to give him the satisfaction. Not really because he'd offended her, since he clearly wasn't really holding her at fault, but because she didn't like to give anyone the idea that she owed them. Owing people was dangerous. Still she couldn't quite hide the twitch of a smile about her lips or the bright glow that pulsed through her eyes, a side effect of her abilities that she was unaware of since very few ever saw her with her sunglasses off anymore. "Fine," she agreed. "Only because I'd hate to see Hank being forced to do the coddling. He'd be terrible at it. I should warn you though, I sing horribly off key."

"So long as you don't laser mon voiture as you clean it." Remy pointed to his own eyes then towards Jem's. "You don't have any powers that will negatively affect the vehicle do you?"

Confusion passed over her face at the reference to her eyes. He clearly knew what it was like to have different eyes but hers didn't do anything. Of course that didn't mean that all were like that. "Nah," she waved a hand dismissively. "The cat eyes are pretty useless outside of a power outage."

"That offers un petit comfort then." Alexander came back into the room with Jem's bag in tow. He dropped the bag at Jem's feet then went and waited by the door, not hiding the fact that he found his job as escort less than delightful. Remy smirked at the young man; he'd always found Alexander's impatience entertaining. "Now, mon voiture serviteur, please," he looked pointedly at Jem's disheveled clothing and inclined his head towards the door and the waiting Alexander, "feel free to freshen up before you continue to explore the premises."

Jem rolled her eyes, "When do I report for coddling duty?" She asked as she hopped off the bed and retrieved her bag. Glancing at Alexander she saw his eyebrows up into his hairline, or just about, in confusion. Served him right, not knowing what they were talking about now, since he'd nearly dropped her bag into the vomit trash can.

"Tomorrow," Remy waved a hand at her, "I will find you tomorrow. Now go. The smell," he made a show of waving his hand in front of his nose, "it is stronger now."

Jem hid her self-consciousness behind another eye roll before she turned and followed Alexander out the door. She knew she smelled bad, looked bad, and in general had made a less-than-impressive first impression on just about everyone she'd met that day. Looking up at Alexander where he walked just a bit in front of her, Jem sighed. The jock had yet to say anything to her directly since the kitchen episode. Surely things couldn't get any worse.

"Rough first date?"

Jem looked up to see a man standing a few paces in front of them. There was a tense and dangerous quality about the way he held himself and spoke that made Jem wonder what sort of abilities he'd have to make him come across so strongly as a walking, talking danger sign.

"Not date, Logan, but rough nonetheless." Alexander growled back, barely pausing to make the comment before he brushed past the man and continued on down the hallway.

Jem hesitated long enough to shake her head, pointing at the stains, "Not my vomit."

"Even worse." The man named Logan grunted before he disappeared inside the room he'd been about to enter when he'd spoken to them first.

Jem blinked at the closed door then hurried on to rejoin Alexander. So far everyone she'd met had quirky personalities; instead of finding that to be a disheartening fact, Jem grinned, it seemed that for once in her life she wasn't going to be the strangest one around.

* * *

Being in a wheelchair didn't dissipate Charles Xavier's aura in the slightest; he still exuded a calm assurance and sense of authority that few could manage with both their legs. Muirin followed him silently as he wheeled away from the infirmary and back towards his office. He stopped in the receiving room and, possibly thinking of a better option, he turned and moved towards the back of the house. Muirin held open the back door once they reached it and followed him outside onto a large concrete porch. Extending quite far in all directions were well-maintained grounds, evidence of gardens and hedge mazes, and even what looked to be a small lake in the distance. It was a truly beautiful compound.

"Which is your favorite?" Muirin asked when they stopped just shy of the steps leading down to a gravel pathway that twisted and turned its way further into the gardens.

"My favorite?"

Muriin smiled then looked down at Charles, gesturing towards the gardens, "Yes, your favorite place in the garden. I'm sure you have one."

Charles, instead of answering right away, continued to study Muirin with an enquiring expression upon his face. The longer he took to study her, the silence lapsing into what most would call rude, Muirin again felt a tickle along the edge of her mind. She knew for certain now that his power was telepathy, and that he was a very strong one if he'd managed to get far enough into her mind to "tickle" her. His eyes narrowed momentarily before he shook his head and looked back out towards the gardens.

"I used to swim in the lake when I was boy, though I still find the location to be one of the more relaxing areas on the property." He glanced up at her, "Which would be your favorite?"

Muirin smirked, "Why don't you tell me what you think my favorite would be?" She took great pains to picture the gorge she'd fallen into earlier that day, even repeating the word itself in her head, and then waited to see what Charles would say or do.

"Let me see," Charles moved his chair until it faced Muirin instead of the gardens. He brought one hand up towards his head, pressing a singular digit against his temple while Muirin leaned against the cool, concrete railing, calmly smiling back at him and his perusal. "The lake as well? Or is it the hedge maze?"

Muirin shook her head, "I'm afraid not. As dearly as I love lakes and mazes, I much prefer caverns and gorges and other such places, where mazes or underground lakes might also be."

"Interesting." Charles nodded and dropped his hand. "To be honest, Doctor Foley, the fact that I cannot quite get a feel on what it is you're thinking is why I wanted to speak with you."

"Are you used to being able to tell what a person is thinking, Mr. Xavier?"

"Please," he smiled at her, "call me Charles."

"Only if I'm Muirin." He nodded then she continued. "So are you able to read a person's thoughts, Charles?"

"Does that bother you, that ability?"

Muirin shrugged, "I would think that it would bother you more than it would ever bother me."

"Oh?" Charles shifted in his chair in order to lean an elbow on one of his armrests, resting his chin in his palm. "How so?"

"I already know what I'm thinking, when I'm thinking it. Unless you loudly announce yourself when you enter someone's mind, I'd rather think they would be too busy thinking to really pay you any heed. Also, if I bother to think something, I really shouldn't be ashamed or surprised if someone else becomes privy to it if they are meddlesome enough to tap into my mind." Her smile turned ever so sinister then, just enough to alert Charles to the fact that though she was polite and reasonable there was much more to her character than could meet the eye. "Now if a person, including you, decided to use my thoughts and feelings against me or, worse yet, to harm those I deem in my charge, then I would be more than bothered by it."

Charles nodded, "That is perhaps the most laissez faire response to my capabilities that I've ever received. And I might add," he smiled, "it is a reasonable response at that. I'd never quite thought of it that way myself." He dropped his hand and clasped it together with the other in his lap. "But perhaps you are so phlegmatic towards the thought because you already know that I cannot read your mind."

"Perhaps," Muirin smirked, "that would make sense wouldn't it?"

"Is there any particular reason why you think I may not be able to read your mind, Muirin? Do you have any capabilities such as my own that you haven't told us about?"

"Oh no," Muirin chuckled, "I know for certain that I am not the same as you or the others here." If only he knew how true that statement was. "It could be that my genetics are natural inhibitors to your abilities? Everyone's DNA is unique, as I'm sure you know, and no two people's brains are alike. As you've not met every person on the planet, nor attempted to read everyone's minds, could it not be reasonable to hypothesize that there may be some people who have natural shields towards telepathic capabilities?"

Charles tipped his head to the side and narrowed his eyes in thought, "This is another reasonable notion, and one that I hadn't much thought of," he gave a quick sigh then glanced back towards the house, "Ororo spoke highly of you."

"Now did she say that or were you listening in on her mind?"

"Perhaps a little of both." Charles chuckled. "Truly, it is rare that someone who does not have the same abilities can be so at ease when in the presence of them."

"Did Ororo tell you that I briefly worked with Trask Industries?"

Charles face grew shadowed and he nodded, "From what I understood you were only in their employment for a few months?"

"Two months exactly. The first month was in training, shadowing scientists in the interview process of what I understood were volunteers for the research program. The second month was spent in a lab working with samples that I again thought were handed over voluntarily." Muirin shook her head and looked back to the gardens. She didn't need to tell Charles that when she'd found out about the true nature of the sample collections she'd purposefully destroyed her lab or that she'd transformed into her natural form long enough to burn down two of the more isolated Trask Industries warehouses. She'd only avoided capture by Trask goons with the fiasco that had brought down Trask himself. She looked back to Charles. "I was never aware of the true nature of those samples until after the fact. Once I knew that, well, I found it very difficult to sleep for quite a while."

"Is that why you took in Caroline so readily? To ease a guilty conscience?"

Muirin shook her head, "I would've taken her in with or without her abilities. It was the right thing to do and though I may not be perfect I do operate on a strict moral code." Of course, her ideas on morality often differed from most humans. "Perhaps, when I knew of her abilities, it did help me sleep better knowing that I could at least protect this one life where I unwittingly failed before."

Charles nodded and fell silent. The silence stretched further, though this wasn't rude or awkward as it had been earlier. They could hear the sounds of students passing in the hallways in the house behind them, classes having finished momentarily. A few birds passed overhead, twisting around each other, before they disappeared into the treeline. Eventually Charles broke the silence.

"When can you start?"

"When would you like me to start?"

They shared a smile and Muirin knew then that Caroline's future had just gotten that much more secure.


End file.
